


Carry Me

by Eloarei



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Children, Gen, Other, Species Swap, basically everything is the same except Daxter starts off as an Ottsel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Jak finds a half-drowned little creature on the beach and nurses it back to health. Only Samos has the slightest clue that things are not quite as simple as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry Me

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, much of this is several years old, so I apologize for that. Also, the premise of this story-series is basically exploring what the story would have been like if Dax had started as an ottsel, and a few other headcanons.

Living in a place where time seemed endless, there was never any need to count years. As it was, perhaps only the green sage knew the villagers’ ages or how long it had been since Sandover last saw visitors. But to the rest of the townsfolk, it mattered not. Time seemed infinite; the world was unchanging; nothing could threaten the predictable routine of their paradise. 

One young boy, however, was soon to learn just how wrong the villagers had been in their assumptions. 

If someone asked the boy himself, he could not tell them how old he was. It wasn’t of any importance, of course. But the things that were important, he could certainly describe. If asked, he’d gladly tell of his adventures in the little village and on the sparkling sands of the beach. He’d excitedly recount his occasional expeditions into the dangerous depths of the jungle, provided a promise not to tell the adults. He may even grace his listeners’ ears with such tales of suspense as his near-miss with the great deadly shark, or his quest to regain a stolen garment from the terrific pelican. And as he exhausted his cornucopia of stories, he may even let slip a mundane detail or two about his living situation or duties around the town.

But it was not likely that anyone _would_ ask, for he had never once met a single person who did not already know every detail of his predictable, provincial life, and he doubted that he ever would.

However, this was not the situation about which he was so deep in thought as he mindlessly collected seashells from the shore beneath the short cliffs supporting the villagers’ huts. Rather, his mind was preoccupied by thoughts of a tantalizing possibility given to him earlier in the day by Samos, the green sage. The old man had been making arrangements to take a visit to his old friend, the blue sage, in order to have a look at a few Precursor artifacts that had been found, and he offered the boy the chance to come along and help him in his research. Of course, he could only go _if_ his uncle gave consent, _and_ all chores were finished in a timely manner.

Neither of these would be a problem, he was sure. In fact, he’d already asked permission of his uncle, who easily agreed, since he’d be gone for a month on some sort of journey anyway. That left only chores to do, which included collecting spiral seashells for the bird-lady to decorate her cages with. He’d collected half a small basketful already, and would have had more, if only he were able to get the excitement of imminent travel out of his mind.

He was wandering along the beach, imagining all sorts of wonderful sights he might behold on his trip, not bothering to look for seashells or for where his feet were taking him, when he quite literally stumbled upon something sticking out of the wet sand. Mind snapping back to reality, he looked down to find, not the rock, shell, or mass of kelp he might have expected, but what seemed to be a drowned kitten. He hastily dropped the basket of shells and stooped to unearth the little orange thing from what he hoped was not its muddy grave. 

Cradling it gently in his arms, he attempted to brush off the wet sand that was caked to its face, trying to discern if the creature still had a breath of life left. It was hard to tell if the kitten was breathing, but the boy could see that its body still pulsed slightly, indicating that its time on earth was not quite spent. Just how long the poor thing had left was yet another question, and not one he thought he could answer himself. Desperate to save the bedraggled animal’s life, the boy set off at a sprint for the green sage’s hut, clutching the creature to his chest as if it were his own life that depended on its safety. 

He had no reason to wonder upon the fact that it might one day be so.

When the boy burst through Samos’ door several minutes later, gasping for breath but still holding the little orange thing tightly within his arms, he was surprised to garner no reaction from the hut’s two occupants. Indeed, it seemed neither the green sage nor his young daughter even noticed the intrusion; they were so enraptured in their tinkering with the glowing warp gate. He stared wordlessly at them for several long moments, still a bit panicked and now frustrated at the lack of immediate attention, before he softly called out the only thing he could think to say in such a situation, sounding as small and helpless as the creature whose dwindling life he held in his hands.

“Please!”

Startled, the two turned around to confusedly greet their guest. The younger one, upon noticing the intruder’s identity, allowed her face to break into a happy smile, as it usually would when seeing him, and she moved forward to meet him.

“Jak! Hi!” she said warmly, as if a visit from her friend was the last thing she expected.

But holding idle conversation with Keira was the last thing from Jak’s mind. Ignoring her greeting, he advanced quickly on Samos, brandishing the limp ball of wet fur.

“Please! Save it!”

Normally Samos would have made some comment to Jak about asking politely for favors, rather than demanding them (because even if you say please, it’s no use if you don’t say it nicely, as he’d often told both children), but he noted the desperate, pleading look in the young boy’s eyes and decided to let it slide. Besides, he’d known Jak for nearly all of the boy’s short life, and judging by what he’d seen, he didn’t think the boy would ever change his manners. (That wasn’t to say that Jak had bad manners; he was simply _insistent_. He had a one-track heart, and Samos didn’t think that such a pure attribute should be admonished.) So he turned his attention to Jak’s hands and what lay curled up within them.

The boy looked to be holding some small creature and, although Samos couldn’t determine the species, it appeared to be a sort of rodent. It was dark orange in color, with longish ears and a thick, sleek tail. As he leaned in for a closer look, he noticed that the thing was also soggy and smelled quite bad. The real problem, however, seemed to be that it was unconscious and breathing only shallowly. 

Giving the creature an apprehensive look, as if worried about diseases or fleas or some-such, Samos muttered to Jak, “Maybe you should just throw it back where you got it.” But even before Jak’s face could fall into a terrified frown, he took the limp animal from the boy’s gentle hands and carried it over to a table toward the back of the room. While he poked and prodded it, searching for any obvious reasons for its far-from-perfect state of health, Samos asked young Jak how exactly he’d come across such a strange thing.

“Was looking for seashells,” Jak explained. “Found it on the shore.” He bit his lip and shifted nervously, trying to keep a close watch on the creature without crowding the sage. “Gonna be okay?”

Samos lifted his eyes from the little wet rodent and settled them on Jak. “It will be a while before we know for sure. In the meantime, why don’t you and Keira go have lunch?”

The sage could tell that wasn’t exactly the answer Jak had wanted to hear. It wasn’t the answer Samos had wanted to give. But he was unwilling to lie to the boy, and didn’t want the thing to die unexpectedly and have to explain it to Jak. From his experience, children never took it well when their pets died, even one so ugly as a drowned rat that had been found on the beach. 

Though he was slightly disappointed, and still very worried over the creature’s well-being, Jak took Samos’ advice and followed Keira, who’d already headed downstairs, to eat and nervously await news from the sage.

He was still pecking distractedly at his food about an hour later when Jak heard the sage’s telltale footsteps. He jumped up from his chair, immediately ready to respond to whatever Samos’ news ended up being, but was motioned at to sit down again. Since the old man was blocking his way to the stairs anyway, Jak complied, though he eyed the sage somewhat suspiciously. 

“Is it-…?”

“He’s going to survive,” Samos told the boy, applying the proper pronoun for the creature’s gender. “But he’s going to have to be taken very good care of until he’s completely healed.” He paused, giving young Jak time to nod seriously. “He had some minor cuts and bruises, but the worst thing was that he swallowed a lot of sea water. That might have done some irreparable damage. You’ll have to watch him carefully. Can you do that, Jak?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically and ran off up the stairs to go take a look at his new friend, only hesitating for a moment to receive an encouraging nod from Samos.

The sage watched Jak go, mixed feelings about the situation. On one hand, he thought it would be nice for the boy to have a pet to take care of. But on the other hand… something didn’t feel right. Didn’t _smell_ right. There was something odd about that animal, and it wasn’t just its peculiar species. It was more the throb of a familiar but untraceable power when he touched it. Something he’d felt before... Something he knew was important. It gave him the feeling that this power could change the future.

But the future is hard to worry about when you’ve got the present staring you in the face. Especially when it has big, blue eyes. 

Jak couldn’t remember anything he’d ever been so glad to see. 

The little creature was blinking up at Jak from its spot on the table at the back of the room. Its eyes appeared to be slightly unfocused, but it was undoubtedly conscious, which was a huge relief. The boy took a cautious step forward, and another when he saw that the little animal wasn’t going to bolt. Slowly he approached it, and slowly the animal tensed, until they were no more than several inches from each other. Tentatively, Jak reached out his hand and was surprised when the creature, instead of biting off his fingers like he feared it might, sniffed curiously, then raised its head to nuzzle at Jak’s palm. 

With that simple gesture, a bond was formed unlike any the world had yet seen. It was a bond that had the power to change lives, and though the world would likely never appreciate its beauty, it would one day feel the effect of its strength.

Later that evening, as he was gathering together spare blankets in his uncle’s house to make a bed for his new friend, Jak began to really wonder about the little animal. Now that he was sure of its health, he could spare a thought for some issues that he hadn’t had time to consider earlier, such as the question of where the creature had come from. It must have had a home somewhere; a family? Wouldn’t it miss them? Mightn’t it try to go back?

Though he’d hardly known the animal for more than a few hours, Jak was saddened at the thought that it might leave him. But he knew he couldn’t keep it from returning to its family, if it chose to do so. Even so, it might be a while until it was healthy enough to make the journey, and that meant that his little friend would probably be staying with him for some time.

So didn’t that mean Jak ought to come up with a name for the creature? He couldn’t very well go around calling it ‘animal’ all the time. 

He looked over at the thing, lying somewhat limply (most likely still drowsy from the medicine Samos had administered) on his uncle’s bed. Luckily, his uncle had left on his latest voyage earlier that day, and hopefully wouldn’t return for a few weeks. By that time, Jak assumed, the animal would probably be healed and would have decided to wander back to its home, and Uncle would never have to know that Jak had shared his house with a wild creature in his absence. Admittedly, Jak would have accepted any scolding from his uncle if it meant the small animal could stay, but told himself not to get his hopes up that his friend would remain in this boring old village, if given the chance to leave. Who would? Already he was readying himself to say goodbye, and he’d barely just said hello. Where the child had learned such a pessimistic mindset was uncertain, but the fact of Jak’s sad disbelief remained.

Setting his mind back to the matters at hand, Jak began to study the animal, who was blinking slowly as it stared off into the distance. There was little he knew about it, aside from its gender. Ah, yes. The creature was a male. A ‘he’, not an ‘it’. Jak reminded himself, but it seemed odd to refer to the creature as ‘he’, since he usually reserved the pronoun for humans, though ‘it’ wouldn’t work either. He thought that a name would be best, but nothing fitting came to mind. 

“What do I call you?” he asked the animal, not really expecting an answer. He was rewarded with nothing other than a rapid blinking of orange eyelids. Shrugging, Jak lifted himself from the floor, crossed the room to pick up the creature and brought it to its new bed, right next to Jak’s own low hammock. It squeaked slightly at being disturbed, but didn’t seem to mind its temporary spot in Jak’s arms. When, a moment later, it found itself in a rumpled pile of musty blankets, it looked up pitifully into Jak’s eyes, but stayed obediently where it was set. 

Jak ignored the look of pathetic pleading it gave him and turned to snuff the candles on his uncle’s bedside table before climbing into his hammock. He yawned loudly and reached down to give the little animal an affectionate ruffle, sleepily murmuring, “G’night, friend…” 

And like a good pet, the small creature stayed in its bed-until he was quite sure that his new master’s breathing had evened out into the steady snore of deep sleep. Then, ever so slowly, he raised himself from the pile of blankets that smelled nothing like home and put his front paws on the hammock. Gathering his scant strength into his back legs, he bunched up and quickly sprang, landing lightly beside the unconscious human. He climbed carefully toward Jak’s head, sniffing curiously as he went, and decided to settle himself in the crook of the boy’s neck, just below the chin. Nestled in his warm spot and feeling very safe, the animal allowed himself to drift off to sleep, but not before taking one last long sniff of his new friend. The scent was thick and calming, and it had the warmth of familiarity and security. Feeling that he could trust the boy with his life, he gratefully fell into unconsciousness, a welcome reprieve from what had been a very tiring day.

Throughout the village, the night had become very still. But in Jak’s slumbering mind a festival of noises and colors was building up. Images of places and people, such as he’d scarcely imagined, rushed in like torrential waves to swirl about him. The pictures didn’t seem to fit; of varying content and clarity, they were sewn together like scraps of an ever-changing patchwork quilt. Jak didn’t know which way to look first. The moving pictures were all so fascinating, not one could keep his eye for more than a moment, until they slowed and blended, creating several more prominent images. These moved in a fashion not unlike how he assumed ghosts would. As well, they were faint and spoke to each other in voices that sounded far-off. 

Dark pictures sulked in the corners, floating around slowly in no specific direction and bouncing off each other, as if they were made of something more than a young boy’s imagination. They each seemed to focus on a different person, and each person seemed focused on Jak. Indeed, they spoke his name, each of them. “Jak--,” a guy said, warningly. “Jak…?” a lady asked quietly. “Jak?!” a man gasped, surprised. “Jak,” a woman stated clearly. “Jak…,” a shadow whispered cruelly. 

“Jak!!!” 

From the center, as brilliantly lit as the others were dull, an image of a colorful boy reached out to him desperately. He was gone in an instant, but Jak was compelled to reach back to him. “Daxter!” he thought he yelled, but it turned out to be someone else’s voice screaming, and someone else’s hand grabbing fruitlessly for the boy who was no longer in sight. Perhaps it was even someone else’s despair he was feeling when the boy did not come back. His red after-image was fading, along with the rest of the dream, but the terrible emotion hung on.

Jak awoke feeling quite sad, but unsure as to why. He attempted to recall the details of his dream, but the only thing that was at all clear was a name that still rested on the tip of his tongue. 

“Daxter,” he said, testing the name out.

He didn’t notice the animal tucked under his chin until the creature perked, having heard the voice speak the name. 

“Hmm?” Jak asked the animal, raising an eyebrow. “You?” It was unclear whether Jak was asking about the name or why his small orange friend was wrapped comfortably around his neck instead of on the floor where he’d been left, but the creature nodded anyway.

“So…, ‘Daxter’?” The boy was not entirely sure that the animal really knew what he was asking, but the little creature blinked fondly at him and gave his chin a friendly head-butt, so he shrugged, patted his friend’s head, and decided that it was a good enough name. Forgetting his earlier decision to make the animal sleep on the floor, Jak pulled the newly-christened Daxter to his chest, and settled back into a much more peaceful sleep.

Jak awoke the following morning, feeling like the world had somehow changed. The sun seemed brighter; the chirping of the early-birds was cheerful and inspiring; the air was warm and peaceful. For a moment he basked in the perfection of it all, until he felt a stirring of something undoubtedly inhuman against his chest. 

He frowned at the little creature. “What…?” But then it blinked its bright blue eyes at him, and everything made sense. His expression mellowed and he patted the thing’s head in greeting. 

“Good morning, Daxter,” he said with a sunny smile.

Daxter replied with his best imitation of a human smile, followed by a nuzzle of his cheek to Jak’s. 

After a moment of lavishing attention upon his new friend, Jak climbed out of his hammock and went about preparing for the day at hand. Daxter watched curiously, never having seen such a morning ritual before and finding the young human’s movements quite interesting. But not _quite interesting_ enough to keep him from getting distracted a few minutes later, and wandering towards the doorway, attracted by the beautiful sunlit day. 

By the time Jak noticed that his audience had left, he was in the middle of changing pants. He paused, one leg in and the other leg poised in mid-air. Quickly he scanned the room, but found nothing, so he shook his head, hastily stuffed his other foot through the empty pant leg, and stumbled out the door to find Daxter lounging in a sunny spot in the grass just outside. Jak smiled at the fuzzy creature, watching in amusement as he rolled around on his back, stopping only when he was quite covered in dust and bits of dried grass. Pleased with himself, Daxter blinked up at Jak and wiggled his tail, flopping back down in an unmistakable invitation to come join him. 

The boy was considering doing just that when his eye was caught by a flash of light reflecting off of one of the many wind-chimes hanging around the eave of the sage’s hut, and he remembered his promise to visit Samos first thing in the morning. So he picked the little creature from the ground, dusted him off lightly, and arranged him gently in his arms before climbing the hill to see what the old man had in store for today. 

It had completely slipped Jak’s mind that today was supposed to have been the day of his big trip to Rock Village until he found Samos’ hut empty of all human life; a hastily scrawled message tacked to the wall was the only sign that someone had been around recently. Though Jak’s literacy was somewhat questionable, he managed Samos’ letter with some effort.

“Dear Jak,” the note began, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to see you this morning, but Keira and I should be back within the week. In the meantime, please don’t get into too much trouble, and remember to change the creature’s bandages daily.”

Gnawing on his lip, Jak glanced over at Daxter, who he’d set on Samos’ work table when they came in, and noticed that the animal seemed to have removed the bandages himself since he’d last given it a conscious thought, and hoped that he wouldn’t keep at it, lest Samos reprimand him for being a negligent caretaker. 

He turned back to the message, which continued with a short postscript: “I’ve found a couple of notes about the creature’s species. You might want to give them a look.”

A page that looked as if it’d been torn out of a very old book was tacked beneath the note, so he unstuck the pin and carefully took the fragile page for inspection.

The small sketch in the corner was black and white but looked remarkably like his Daxter, disregarding the fact that the pictured creature was considerably less fluffy, with dull black eyes that looked nothing like the bright blue ones blinking up at him now. 

It was labeled “Ottsel”. 

Liking the look of the word, Jak gave his tongue a try with it. “Ot-zul…” He smiled and crossed the room to show Daxter the old page. “This you?” he asked, indicating the drawing of the sleek creature. “You an ottsel?” Daxter gave him an unintelligible look. It appeared that neither the word nor the sketch meant anything to him. So Jak shrugged and turned his attentions back to the wrinkled page.

For a few minutes he tried to read through the paragraphs describing the species and its habits, but was mostly unsuccessful in learning anything new, except in finding that ottsels were apparently ‘omnivorous' in their eating habits. Unfortunately, Jak didn’t really know what that meant. He figured he’d ask Samos more when he returned, and just wing it in the mean time. 

At the thought of ‘winging it’, Jak remembered (with slight reluctance) that he still had today’s chores to do, not to mention yesterday’s forgotten ones to complete, which included retrieving the lost shells for the bird lady. He considered putting them off, since Samos was not around to enforce the rules, but the sage’s voice rang through his head, an echo of the years of training that had taught him not to shirk responsibility. So he tacked the pages back where he’d found them, tucked Daxter under his arm, and set off for the beach at a reasonably almost responsible pace. 

A few minutes of meandering found Jak’s toes covered in soft wet sand as he retraced yesterday’s steps in an attempt to remember exactly where he’d dropped the basket of seashells. It hadn’t been near the cove, he was sure. Perhaps by the bay? He stared out at the beach’s landscape, trying to remember, and paying little attention to the wiggling ottsel trapped beneath his arm. After a moment of idle struggling, Daxter managed to escape Jak’s mindless grasp and landed himself somewhat ungracefully in the sand, startling his human friend out of his dutiful contemplation. Paying the human little mind, the ottsel took a few hesitant steps towards the ocean, his eyes trained on an island floating in the distance.

Curious, Jak followed the little creature’s gaze. Misty Island… Was that what Daxter was looking at so intently? Was that island perhaps the escape route his small friend was already planning? He sank to his knees beside the ottsel, hands in his lap. 

“So, you do want to leave.”

Daxter looked back at Jak, his furry face seeming to house an expression of dismay. Perhaps it meant ‘How could you tell?’ or ‘That’s not it at all!’. Maybe it was ‘I didn’t want you to know’. Jak wasn’t sure, couldn’t quite read the feelings written in his companion’s eyes. But the next moment, Daxter had climbed onto the boy’s chest and nuzzled his face into the soft warm neck that smelled like home, and Jak decided to let himself believe the gesture meant that his friend would stay.

The rest of the morning was spent trying to refill the basket of seashells, and Jak found that it was a much more enjoyable task when shared. Daxter proved to be quite useful at finding shells, owing, probably, to the fact that his eyes were much closer to the ground. They filled the basket in very little time, even with the ottsel’s frequent stops to poke at crabs and other small beach-life, all of which seemed new and greatly intriguing to him. Jak watched fondly, stepping in occasionally to rescue his friend from particularly grouchy crustaceans. 

And so they wiled the morning away, eventually deciding that they’d lounged on the beach long enough and should head back to the village. Apparently unwilling to walk the distance himself, Daxter leaped up to Jak’s shoulder, balancing precariously as his human friend began the trek back home. Jak kept a hand free, hovering near his shoulder should the animal lose his footing, but Daxter clung on obstinately, as if trying to prove that this was his rightful place.

And that was how it went. They spent the days together, working, playing, exploring, learning. Exhausted at the end of the day, Jak would drop into his hammock after bidding his friend goodnight, and it was never a surprise when he woke the next morning to find Daxter cuddled under his chin, instead of on the floor where he’d left him. In no time at all, it had become routine. 

By the time Samos and Keira returned, Jak had nearly forgotten about life before Daxter. The rest of the village, however, had certainly not. They seemed to view the friendship as peculiar, to say the least. This included the green sage, who was surprised to find that the pair had become so inseparable. As Jak greeted him upon his return from Rock Village, the creature perched easily on his shoulder, Samos studied the two and found that the obvious power flowing easily between them was almost overpowering. 

He was even more astounded when he heard what Jak had decided to call the creature: Daxter. He’d heard the name before, many years ago. But where had Jak heard it? What made him think that this was the appropriate name for the scraggly animal? Could he have…?

Samos considered asking the boy about the origin of the name, but hesitated. Jak was chattering innocently about what he and the creature, that Daxter, had done the past week, and the sage could tell there was nothing hiding in his voice. Even so, he felt distrust. Was it of the strange animal, or maybe the name? Distrust of Jak? Or maybe… it was a distrust of the past. A distrust of the future.

Regardless of what the sage may have felt, there was nothing that could be done to change the bond the two had forged. This fact was slowly becoming more and more obvious to the rest of the village as well, though most of them seemed to find it difficult to be happy for Jak. Sure, they absolutely adored the boy; strong, smart, and kind, he was the sort of kid any adult would love to have around. But that rat of his-- it was just so _weird_. It was unlike anything they'd seen before, and so they distrusted it. Even so, they tried not to be too rude to it, as Jak was obviously quite fond of it, and didn't take well to any insults towards the creature.

Daxter, whose understanding of the human language appeared to be growing by the day, did not take very well to insults either. Any ill will perceived by the ottsel usually resulted in a half hidden pee stain in a corner of someone's hut, or a large dead insect in their bed. This, of course, did not lessen the villagers' animosity towards the creature, but sometimes helped remind them to curtail their rudeness when Jak or his furry shadow was around.

Jak, for the most part, found these little presents of Daxter's hilarious, except when he was punished for the creature's misdeeds. But even while he sat in a corner for an hour-long "time-out", he often couldn't help smiling. And when Daxter's personality became more and more his own, and he began to share the responsibility of their pranks, and the two were forced to sit time-out in the opposite corners of Samos' hut, they smiled because they knew each was thinking the exact same thing: " ...and I'd do it again, too!" 

So it became a relatively common sight: Some adult or another, dragging the boys up the hill towards Samos' hut, tugging Jak by the ear and carrying Daxter by the tail, then a moment later (as the adult sauntered smugly down the hill again, quite content that justice was being served) the green sage's slightly muffled shouts. All was usually quiet in the village for at least an hour, while the two tricksters sat in Samos' hut, giggling at each other across the room.

When the boys had finished serving their time, they’d head downstairs for lunch and be greeted by a half-concealed but affectionate smile from Samos, who would soon send them on their way and then spend a good hour or so just thinking about how things had turned out.

The cycle of events continued in roughly the same fashion for some time. Nothing could stop Jak and Daxter, and no one could predict them, and it was never a surprise when they came scampering back home after some ridiculous quest or another, having just barely escaped danger. 

But some dangers are inescapable, such as those destined to shape your future. They didn’t know what lay ahead, and in the way of innocent children, ran eagerly toward it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of other little bits throughout the plot written out, but so far none of them are probably complete enough to share. I still haven't decided if I want the story to be fluid or disjointed, but either way, I will likely post the next parts as separate stories within a series. =)


End file.
